


Nor Some Wounded Bird

by ix_tab



Series: This Is What Love Looks Like [12]
Category: Professional Wrestling, 新日本プロレス | New Japan Pro-Wrestling
Genre: Golden Lovers, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, big domesticity mood, dumb boys in love, hear me out: what about verbal communcation?, physical and emotional h/c!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-14
Updated: 2018-09-14
Packaged: 2019-07-12 03:17:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,454
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15986492
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ix_tab/pseuds/ix_tab
Summary: After the G1, waiting and healing up for All In, Kenny and Kota struggle with a little self doubt, together and separately .Everything is easier, if it's shared.





	Nor Some Wounded Bird

**Author's Note:**

> lmao you know its fanfiction when two grown ass men, who have known each other for a decade use their interpersonal skills and actually talk to one another
> 
> Title from Murder By Death's 'Last Thing'

Kota wakes up at 5am and is alone in bed. This was not, in itself unusual. Kenny has broken sleep at the best of times, and post G1 has been a strange place for both of them.

Their connection has never been stronger, they spent weeks together training to hit the perfect note with the match they'd been dreading. He thinks they did it.

He doesn't remember the match, but after a while, after he’d scored into his memory the taste and feel of Kenny's exhausted body underneath him...he'd been brave enough to watch it.

It had been a dance and a conversation and a fight with teeth bared. He was proud of it, of them and he never wanted to do it again.

 

But as they healed, as he moves through the emotional upheaval of his win and loss, Kenny does the same and it means getting up to play mario tennis at 4am or going to the dodgy 24 hr gym across the street. Anything to calm racing thoughts and feelings.

 

So he isn't concerned at his partner's absence, though he is a little annoyed. He wants to have breakfast with a refreshed Kenny, not one who is going to nod off into his eggs and rice.

 

A clattering from the kitchen breaks the silence and Kota calls out “Kenny, you ok?”

He isn't really worried but it’s easy habit and he wants to hear the tone of Kenny’s answer.

It will mean figuring out if its a workout intensive day, or one where they stretch and then go eat shaved ice.  Personally, he's hoping for the ice.

But there is no reply and whatever safety instinct he has about Kenny is prickling. He gets out of bed, slipping into the hastily discarded shorts he'd thrown across the room the night before. 

 

Kota makes it into the kitchen and then feels time freeze. 

 

Kenny is sitting on the ground, teeth biting into his forearm to stop himself from screaming as he clutches his barely recovered heel.

He takes it in, Kenny’s face contorted in pain, blue eyes bright with involuntary tears, and then things speed up again as he's wrapping his arms around Kenny. Kenny presses his face into Kota's shoulder, shuddering, letting out hoarse, guttural exhalations of pain. 

 

“I was half asleep, I didn't even realise what I'd done until it happened,” Kenny, answering the question Kota asks without words.

He asks with the gentle pressure of his arms, his hands tangled in Kenny’s curls. A soft squeeze on the nape of the neck, his breath warm on Kenny's skin.

“I misstepped, smashed my heel into the base of the kitchen counter. It feels...feels like I've been stabbed there,” Kenny finishes softly.

Kota pulls away, to see his partner’s unnatural pallor, the sweat beading on his forehead, not from the familiar, welcome exertion of exercise, or the continuing oppressive summer heat, or sex.

“Bed rest, at least for half the day,” Kota says decisively. He braces himself for the inevitable argument, and is stunned as Kenny nods, compliant, letting Kota carry him back to bed.

Kota finds himself fussing about, busying himself with gathering ice packs and cushions as Kenny lays there, almost passive in his agreeableness. He lets Kota arrange him so his leg is elevated and he has no choice but to remain immobile.

 

“What are you thinking?” Kota eventually asks, feeling the weight of silence. There is a big difference between this vibe and the companionable quiet moments they often share. 

“I keep on being injured in small, irritating ways, and as soon as it's gone, another thing pops up. I'm a little sick of my body, Ibutan,” Kenny finally says. His tone is light, like he's joking but Kota knows him too well. There's a self-hating bitterness in there that carries more weight than it should.

“Kenny. Remember when I got concussed, when we fought Nick and Matt?”

“Yes?” Kenny looks confused, like he's not sure how his own injuries and Kota's could be compared. Kota experiences an odd mix of fondness and irritation.

“Was that my fault? Should I have beaten myself up over that?”

“No, of course not!”

“Then how is it any different for you? We get injured sometimes, that's the price. But it isn't a failure,” Kota says firmly. Kenny worries at his recently healed bottom lip, almost subconsciously.

“...Hmm. Ah. I don't know. You're too smart for me, Kota,” Kenny says, and his light tone is real this time. Kota smiles down at him, lays down gingerly next to him, so so careful not to jostle his partner.

 

“I feel like I've been injured,” Kota says, after a moment. Kenny makes an alarmed noise, and Kota slams an arm upon his chest to prevent him from moving.

Kenny gasps, air rushing out of his lungs.

"You were injured? How? When? ...also ow, Bu-san, please, man down here.” Kota strokes his tshirt covered chest in apology.

“No, I mean...I mean that I feel like my ability has been injured. I feel inadequate. Lacking. I'm not trying hard enough.” It's ugly to say out loud. Part of him had been hoping that voicing the poisonous thoughts would help but it just hurts.

 

Kenny almost yells at him.

 

“I can't! Kota no! Don't...you don't...you are the best. Fuck. It's too early for me to have the words for how good you are,” Kenny, furious, outraged on his behalf.

Kota lets out an involuntary snort of disbelief.

“You aren't objective. You can't look at me and really know.”

After he says it, Kota winces. It sounds like he doesn't trust Kenny’s opinion, which isn't true, but. It's complicated. Whatever doubt that has wormed its way into his mind wants to reject comfort.

 

Kenny takes a few shaky breaths. Kota feels his diaphragm rise and fall. It's oddly intimate, in this painful moment, feeling Kenny's body operate, feeling the hum of energy that never dissipates between them.

“...I admit it, I can't be objective about you. I've never been able to. But do you trust me that I know you, really know you, as a performer, as a person, as mine?”

Kota's face flushes warm. Hard to hang onto the intrusive negativity in the face of Kenny being earnest. He shuffles closer, presses against Kenny’s side, still mindful of his leg.

His fingers move across from Kenny’s stomach, reaching over to rub slow circles on the cool skin of his hip, pushing the tshirt up to expose it to the early morning air.

 

“I know you, I've known you a third of my life. So even if I can't be objective, trust me when I say I know you are trying, that you are working so hard, reaching new heights.  Ibutan, I've seen when you disengage, when you don't care. You can hide it from other people, you're good enough for that, but I know. And that? I don't even remember the last time it happened.”

Kenny takes another breath, sounding almost teary. Kota holds himself still, hit by the force of it, the magnitude of their connection. How is he supposed to refute that?

“I love you, you know that? My partner, my Kenny-tan.” Kota says, as Kenny seems to need a moment to collect himself. Kenny laughs at this, gentle, a real moment of joy peaking out.

“Surprise! I love you too. So...even though I’m biased, could you believe that I've seen you trying harder then ever before?” Kenny asks, embarrassingly earnest. Kota turns his head to press his face into Kenny's neck, smelling him, clean and soft, even with the familiar, welcome prickle of a little stubble.

“I'll try to, I promise,” Kota says into Kenny's neck, muffled. He knows he's stretching the truth a little. He'd mentally ticked the box next to  _ Kenny thinks I’m everything _ . 

 

He's been everything to Kenny, a friend, a partner, rival, goal, enemy, bittersweet memory, lifesaver, and destiny. His lover.

But there was the nasty question that flickered around during his lower moments. 

‘ _ Kenny trusts me, believes in me, but should he?’ _

He's not going to explore that now, he's pretty sure it's just self doubt trying to work its way deeper into him. 

 

“Hey Bu-san, did we just make up without actually having a fight?” Kenny asks, sounding amused. Kota kisses his jaw and nods. 

“We're so good at this. The best at dating,” Kenny’s giggling now, tension dissipating.

“Five stars, match of the year,” Kota responds and find himself helplessly laughing too. A minute ago, he'd felt sick with self recrimination, and now he's laying half over Kenny, feeling both their bodies shake with laughter. Ridiculous, the pair of them.

 

“After all that, I am still sick of this,” Kenny says eventually, gesturing down at his foot. Kota lets out a small noise of support.

“I’m tired of it too, I hate seeing you in pain. Plus selfish reasons. I have plans,” Kota says, and Kenny makes a high pitched squeak.

“What?”

“I think you've trained some sort of Pavlovian response in me. Just hearing you say that you have plans for me makes me start...you know…” Kenny sounds embarrassed, trails off. He's determinedly staring at the ceiling like he's developed a fascination with it.

Flustered, pink cheeked Kenny is one of Kota's favourite things in the world. An occurrence to be treasured. And prolonged, if he gets the chance.

“It gets you hard? Is that what you mean? You like thinking about what I'd like you to do, or do to you?” Kota grins wickedly as Kenny pinches him on the forearm in exasperation.

“I was trying to - we were having a moment, Bu-san, I wasn't going to just talk about boners. Honestly,” he huffs. It's cute.

“Kenny, last night you ate my ass until I cried. I think we can talk about boners whenever,” Kota says and quickly moves to avoid Kenny pinching him again. Kenny narrows his eyes at Kota for a split second and then bursts out laughing, gulping in air as he wheezes to a stop.

“Come here and hug me. You are a menace to society.”

“Your menace,” Kota mumbles into Kenny's chest. A hand is on his head, gently ruffling his hair. He leans into it, like a dog seeking scratches.

“My very own menace.”

 

They lay together for a little while longer, and then Kota's stomach rumbles.

“Ahh ok. Breakfast. I'll bring yours to you,” Kota offers, reluctantly leaving their embrace. 

“You're a lifesaver, Ibutan,” Kenny says, disarmingly earnest. 

_ You ridiculous creature _ , Kota thinks as he bends down to steal another kiss.

 

“Oh, before you go!”

Kota turns back to face Kenny, mischief written across his features, the bad feelings that they had both shared washing away, shadows disappearing in full dawn glory.

Shadows always came creeping back, but Kota hopes he will remember the twinkle in Kenny's eyes, his sunbright smile.

 

“...I can't wait to find out your next plan is. Want to tie me up? Want to fuck on a hotel balcony? Make me beg?” Kenny waggles his eyebrows, contorts his expression until its cartoonish. 

Kota answers the list of powerful suggestions by biting Kenny's lip. He's not going to get breakfast at this rate. He's going to wither and die because he can't stop himself from kissing his partner. 

"You'll have to wait until I think you can weight-bear in uh, difficult circumstances. But I think we'll have fun," Kota teases him, and then finally pulls away. Kenny looks soft, like he's forgotten the pain that had originally put him in the bed, dovetailed the beginning to their day.

 

After breakfast, Kenny hands his dish over to Kota, and then looks at him until Kota begrudgingly takes the dishes out of the bedroom.

Kota doesn't get Kenny's finickiness sometimes, when its so situational. Travelling together is an explosion of their belongings, their room here has a collection of laundry that is definitely past the week mark. Not to mention the ever present, sweet clutter of fan letters and gifts that Kenny in particular likes to keep near as he goes through them, reads them, appreciates them.

Kota loves them too, but he never felt the need to make a little treasure trove of them, a hoard that Kenny would get territorial over if asked to move it. 

 

"I wasn't going to leave them here for long, I was just going to get back into bed for a while, but I guess washing up is more important," and Kenny rolls his eyes at him. Kota sniffs.

"Besides you've got that," Kota casts his eye around their room to find ammunition, "you've got that grey ninja turtles tshirt that has been on top of the dresser for what feels like years, but you can't put up with a bowl near the bedside for half an hour."

"Bu-san, that tshirt is vintage. I just haven't gotten around to handwashing it yet. I'd shred it if I put it through the machine. Don't pick on me," Kenny whines.

Kota goes over to inspect said shirt. He's pretty sure they've gotten as far as they could from the original angst of the morning, and he's ok with it. The bad feelings, intrusive, repetitive thoughts would come and go. Teasing Kenny about his hypocritical cleaning stances was far and above the better option.

"Kenny. This shirt is transparent. If I hold it up to the window it would dissolve."

"Well then, think of it like lingerie," Kenny says, imperiously, breaking character, grinning as well when Kota throws his head back and bellows with laughter.

 

"I'm glad I have you," Kota says gently, when he can stop laughing. Kenny looks at him, soft again, and it's automatic to go back to him, to curl around him as best he can on the bed without disrupting the elevation of Kenny's injury.

"I love you. I love this...but don't you have training to do? I'll be ready to join you in a few hours," Kenny murmurs, not letting go of his slightly awkward grasp on Kota. Lying flat on his back is not optimal, he has to let Kota be in control of the contact between them. Kota squeezes him a little, Kenny's body still warm from the bed, the sun peaking through the cracks in the blinds. Summer is still out in force.

"I'm in no hurry. It can wait for me until I'm ready," Kota says. He wouldn't perish from losing a half day of workouts, and right now there wasn't anywhere he'd rather be then against Kenny's body, sychronised in their breathing together, able to hear the deep slow beat of Kenny's heart. 


End file.
